


Too Brave For Your Own Good

by generalsleepy



Series: Tumblr POTO Prompts [12]
Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera - Gaston Leroux
Genre: F/M, First Aid, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-06-01 13:36:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15144215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/generalsleepy/pseuds/generalsleepy
Summary: Christine patches up Raoul after an encounter with Erik.





	Too Brave For Your Own Good

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt: "can we get a little fic where christine is treating raoul wounds?"

Christine sighed as she dabbed at the scrape on Raoul’s forehead. “Oh, Raoul.”

“I’m sorry.”

She pursed her lips to suppress another sigh. “Now, don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault that you’re too brave for your own good.”

“I couldn’t find you anywhere, and I got worried. I thought that I could reason with him, or at least find out where you were.”

Erik had kept her late with lessons. Afterwards, he had ordered her to go straight home and immediately to bed. He knew full well (because he apparently knew everything about her life) that she usually met Raoul outside of the opera house, but of course he didn’t care. She’d left a note at the box office for Raoul. Either Erik had intercepted the note before Madame Giry could find it, or she had handed it over to him. Giry’s only loyalties were to “the Opera Ghost” and her daughter.

And, of course, Raoul, on finding her missing, had immediately set off on a rescue mission. 

He really was too brave for his own good sometimes.

“I suppose I must thank you. I’m very lucky to have a protector.”

Satisfied that she’d sufficiently cleaned the bad scrape, she set aside the washcloth and picked up the bandages. She started to wind them around his head. She’d also cleaned and applied bandages to the scrapes on this palms. She'd cleaned the little cut on his cheek, and was fairly certain it wouldn’t scar. There wasn’t much that she could do about the numerous red marks and blotches that by tomorrow would darken into ugly purple bruises.

As much as hit made her heart ache to think of it, she had to admit that his injuries could have been far,  _far_  worse.

“If only you could have a competent one,” Raoul mumbled. 

“Oh, now hush.” Ordinarily, she would have given him a playful cuff on the head. Instead, she just planted a kiss on his hair. “I wouldn’t have anyone else.”

“I’ll only believe that, because you could have anyone else at a word.” He stole a quick kiss on her cheek. To do so, he had to lean up from his reclining position on the couch, provoking a wince and little gasp of pain.

“Shh.” She gently eased him back down with a hand on his forehead. “Try to stay still, darling.”

Raoul had explained that he had hurried to the place where the Persian issued them his warning, searching for a trapdoor, it seemed with no larger plan beside that. He'd outlined a basic sketch of what had happened when Erik found him.

Erik had grabbed him and slammed his head into the wall, where he had gotten the wound on his head. He’d spun him around, held him against the wall with a hand around his throat. He’d punched him in the gut, slapped his face, a backhanded slap leaving a cut from a ring. When Raoul was on the verge of unconsciousness, he’d been slammed to the ground. Erik had kicked his stomach, chest, and legs. He’d dragged him for a while first by his hair, then by his collar, choking him again. Raoul said he had finally been flung through a door that locked behind him.

Raoul said that throughout the attack, Erik had kept up a stream of threats and insults. He didn’t detail any of the words, but Christine could tell they weighed on him–she thought heavier than the physical wounds.

“I just hate to see you hurt like this.” She forced herself to put it in terms he would accept. “He could have hurt you far worse, and you wouldn’t be able to help either of us if you were badly hurt, or…”  _Worse_. She couldn’t bring herself to be even vague about what she really meant.

She finished with the bandage on his forehead and made certain she wouldn’t catch any hair before she tied it off. “Here. I think I have it. If you’re ever can’t find me and are concerned, I want you to go find the Persian and ask his help, before you go off alone. I’m not certain exactly how or why, but he knows something of Erik, and he is willing to be our ally. He is at the opera often, and I’m certain your brother can tell you his address.”

Raoul nodded. “I should have done that earlier. I just didn’t think. I suppose I hardly ever think.”

“Oh, hush,” she repeated. Satisfied that she had done all she could, Christine packed away the little case of bandages, then turned back to Raoul. For a while, she petted and smoothed his hair. She hoped that it would soothe some of the ache from it nearly being pulled from his scalp. Finally, she said, “You should get back to your brother’s house before too long. He’ll be worrying about you.”

“Yes.”

She could read all of her own hesitation in his face, though. He didn’t want to leave her anymore than she did him. She especially hated to think of letting him go in this state, as much as she rationally knew his injuries weren’t that serious.

“It’s not that late, though. You could stay a bit longer.”

Raoul smiled. “Thank you.” Slowly, he raised a hand and rested it in Christine’s hair.  She leaned into the touch.

Careful not to jostle him too much, she got onto the couch with him. She arranged her body so it wouldn’t press against anywhere that would hurt. Then, she eased Raoul’s head to her chest and gently stroked his hair.

“I love you,” she said softly.

“I love you, Christine.” He snuggled closer and placed an arm over her. Their bodies relaxed against each other. For a moment, Christine forgot about phantoms and cellars and lurking dangers. For now, it was just her and the man she loved.


End file.
